


Coda

by GasoliNe



Category: Firefly, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, picking up the pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasoliNe/pseuds/GasoliNe
Summary: A Firefly is meant to fly forever. The remaining crew of Serenity learn exactly what it means after the battle on Miranda.“That’s not Wash. It never will be.”“Obviously”. They both start when the droid speaks. It gives them a long stare before moving on; its hand brushes Zoe’s elbow as it pushes past her into the corridor. “You’ll find me on the bridge.”





	Coda

**Author's Note:**

> *Shows up a year late with Starbucks* This is the result of an idea that popped up in my head over a year ago when I finally connected Alan Tyduk with K2SO. "Ah", I thought, "a perfect opportunity to work through my grief over Wash's death". And then I proceeded to absolutely nothing about it until yesterday. 
> 
> EDIT: For those of you noticing the suspicious lack of Jayne in this fic, the reason is very simple: he's my least favourite character and I forgot about him. Sorry.  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------

”That’s not my husband”. Her nostrils flares, watching the matte black droid hooked up to the ships hard drive. It whirrs like an old fan while updating its memory core. When it speaks, it is with a watered down version of _his_ voice, when it walks, it is with an eerie grace that Washed never possessed while he was still with her.

The droid raises its round head. The optical lenses zoom in on her with an audible whirring sound, but it remains silent, watching her straight back.

Zoe feels sick. “You’re a piece of shit, Mal”.

Mal grinds his teeth, obviously just as ill at ease as her but pushing it down while he busies himself with securing one of the droid’s loose arms. Zoe doesn’t take kindly to being ignored. Never has. Wash had liked that about her.

“I want you to get rid of it. _Mal_ ”. The black droid follows her with its unnerving eyes as she rounds on the captain, gripping his arm. “Captain!”

“Damnit, Zoe!” Mal grinds out securing the last screw. He drags a hand down his face. “We need a pilot”.

“We have River”.

“River’s just a kid. Can’t ‘spect her to watch the comm all the damn time. Not old enough.”

“Old enough to fight and die”.

Mal peers at her with an odd sort of soft look that makes her skin crawl. “Zoe…”

“Spare it”, she snaps, hand reflexively going to her blaster, wishing it would sooth her, ground her somehow. The computer beeps, a bulb flashing green; Mal’s got a pinched look about him as he goes to unhook the droid and fit the plate protecting the outlet back in place. The droid rises to its feet, towering above them both, flexing its fingers and moving its spindly limbs with a strange air of curiosity.

Mal approaches Zoe, who seems to have seized up entirely as she stares at the giant droid. “I’m sorry it has to be this way”, he says lowly, reaching out as if to touch her but changing his mind at the last second, scratches his nose instead. Zoe’s lips presses together into a bloodless line.

“That’s not Wash. It never will be.”

“Obviously”. They both start when the droid speaks. It gives them a long stare before moving on; its hand brushes Zoe’s elbow as it pushes past her into the corridor. “You’ll find me on the bridge.”

 

\---

 

A firefly is meant to fly forever. Mal has known this since long before he took off to the stars, heard it sung in lullabies and whispered in old stories in the deep nights on the small Corellian moon where he was born. His nana called them ghost ships, his uncle ruffled his hair and told him that “Fireflies never sleep, silly, so why don’tcha try and keep your eyes open and fixed on the cattle for a change, bud?”

It’s long, long after he’s lost his first battle or sold his first illegal batch of spice that he finally understands. Four identical compartments concealed behind a wall down in engineering; inside them, four identical metallic faces. The skeleton crew, sleeping, waiting.

They’ve all hooked themselves up to the ship’s mainframe once or twice during their stay in Serenity: it’s necessary in case of emergency, to have all of the crew’s knowledge and intel stored in the data base.

Wash dies, and Mal knows what he must do. He’s got all the pieces he needs, now; Wash knew what he signed up for, anyway.

He opens the hidden door again, brushes the dust from the black face inside. The serial number stamped on its side reads _K-2-S-O_.

 

\---

 

The droid takes to flying like a duck to water: sure, steady and completely at ease in the cramped space. Without having to ask, he knows exactly which button to push, which lever always gets stuck and needs an extra tug and which wires to cut to jumpstart the ship in case the ignition fails (which is often) – as if he has the blueprint of the entire process already tattooed to his eyeballs.

“It’s a little eerie, isn’t it”, Simon remarks quietly to Mal after having watched K2SO execute a perfect barrel roll. Mal keeps his mouth shut, but silently agrees: the droid seems to know the exact order in which to line Wash’s old dinosaurs up on the dashboard again by heart. River watches K2SO silently from her perch in the other seat, her dirty feet resting on the dashboard in front of her. “You forgot your silly shirt today”, she says.

K2SO’s movements don’t pause, but he delays replying for a moment. “They wouldn’t fit me anymore”, he finally says. “And besides, it wouldn’t go with my colour scheme”.

 

\---

 

Zoe finds out she’s pregnant and the tears won’t stop. It’s the first time since Miranda that she seriously considers not leaving her bunk again, not now, not ever.

Mal kicks her door, refuses to leave for a while, but eventually does anyway. Inara tries to speak with her, but Zoe ignores her in favour of counting her own breaths until Inara goes away. Kaylee pushes a note through the crack between the door and its frame. It says that she’s happy for Zoe, that Wash would be so proud. 

Simon slips her food and some medicine through the bars at the bottom of the door; she leaves the dry nutrient bars untouched but takes the vitamins, vaguely aware that the small clump of cells and tissue inside of her is somehow a piece of Wash. She shies away from that thought, contemplates the blaster for a split second before deciding better of it.

That night, River slips through her vent and curls up by Zoe’s feet like the scraggly cat Wash always wished for but never got: space isn’t a good place for living creatures. River’s eyes gleam in the dark as Zoe sobs; when Zoe quiets, she starts to sing. It’s a song without words and a winding melody that makes sense in stops and starts, but somehow it soothes her aching heart.

When she wakes, River is gone, though she left something in her place on the threadbare blanket: a small, round rock, completely ordinary except for how smooth it is, as if it’s spent a lifetime getting rocked by the waves in the ocean. Zoe holds it while resting her hands on her barely extended belly, counts the scratches in the ceiling.

That evening, when the ship’s gone to sleep and the lights are dimmed low, Zoe pushes her door open and sneaks out into the kitchen, intent on grabbing whatever leftovers Simon cooked earlier that evening: the smell had wafted into her quarters and suddenly she’d been starving.

Zoe jumps at the sight of the large shadow standing by the pantry, grabs for her blaster before recognizing the soft whirring of K2SO’s processor. “Good”, he says, stepping out into the dim light from the viewports. “You have not eaten in approximately 36 hours”.

“I wasn’t aware you were my keeper”, she replies icily, cradling the small tin of leftovers to her chest.

“I wasn’t aware you cared so little for your own well-being”, K2SO fires back. It makes her pause, regarding him with a narrowed eyes.

“What do you care?”

“I don’t”, he says, still watching her as she slowly backs out of the kitchen area. “But if you die, you will become like me. I just thought I should warn you.”

 

\---

 

The blaster shots are coming closer and closer; Zoe breathes slowly and sights down her blaster rifle where she’s lined it up on the kitchen counter. Her belly presses heavy against her thighs. Wetness is seeping through her knees from where she’s kneeling in a puddle of spilled juice.

She’s too heavy and slow now to be of any real help in a battle, she thinks bitterly, so the best she can do is springing a trap and lay in wait or the bastards trying to steal their home.

They are outnumbered, really, but damn if Zoe’s not going to go out without a fight.

“See you soon, baby”, she mumbles, squeezing the trigger as the first shadow enters the doorway.

She starts running low on bullets after a while, and is down to her last one as two snarling invaders step into the kitchen at the same time. Zoe curses, hand going for the knife strapped to her thigh. But before she gets a chance to try and stab the bastards, a dark shadow appears in the doorway behind them and knocks them out in one blow. Blood splatters over the wall.     

K2SO steps into the light. He’s got a bloody spanner that looks comically small in his hands.

Zoe breathes out, her shaking fingers relaxing on the blade. “Oh, it’s you”, she says, stretching her numbing legs. “Thanks”. 

K2SO regards her with his head slightly tilted to one side, weighing the spanner in his hand. “I came to investigate the noise”, he says, stepping over a dead body to steady her as she stumbles a little. Her calves are cramping like crazy. “But I can see now that you had it under control”.

There’s a movement behind him in the doorway, and she instinctively swings around her blaster and squeezes off another shot. There’s a thud.

“Oh”, K2SO says and regards the smoking whole through his middle before starting to list to one side. “You’re a very good shot”.

She struggles to catch him before he hits the ground, her heart suddenly beating very hard.

“K2SO? Can you hear me?”

The droid’s fan is silent, his eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Zoe curses and limps as fast as her swollen feet will take her down to engineering to find Kaylee.   

 

\---

 

The baby is very small. Her skin a light, smooth brown and her hair curls around her ears in dark coils. She looks nothing like Wash. She also looks exactly like him.

For once in his life, Mal seems to be at a loss for words, his eyes going distinctly shiny as the baby grabs for his finger.

“You’re a sap, Captain”, Zoe croaks from the bed. Her voice is hoarse from screaming. “I knew it was all a matter of finding the right girl to make you shut up”.

“Your ma’s a cold, cruel woman. Yes, she is”, Mal croons, rocking the baby slowly from side to side.

“Let me hold her!” Kaylee exclaims breathlessly and stretches to her tip toes to see the baby’s face when Mal holds her higher, scowling at the interruption. “She’s like my niece! Oh shiny! I can’t wait to get my own”, she gushes, stealing the baby straight from Mal’s arms. Simon clears his throat, looking a little shifty-eyed as Kaylee continues to blubber nonsense at the little bundle in her arms.

“It’s good to see you smile again, _xiao mei_ ”, Mal says and ruffles Kaylee’s hair lightly. Kaylee grins, her gaunt face shining with joy. “New life means new beginnings, Captain”, she nods sagely.

Zoe’s eyes burn.

It’s been a hard year on them all, constantly living on the run, dealing with all the people they’ve lost, not just for her. Mal’s clothes hang loosely on his body, his hair streaking silver at the temples faster than a leaf turning colours in the fall. More than once she’s found Simon huddled in the sick bay, obsessively counting and reorganizing his equipment, breath short and eyes glassy. River rarely says anything, but they all know about her nightmares: they echo through the vents on nights when she’s hidden herself away so as not to hurt anyone.

“Alright, everyone”, Inara says, clapping her hands together. “I think we should leave the new mother and her baby alone”.

A chorus of general discontent, but after a few moments, the sick bay is completely deserted except for Zoe, still bedridden, and Inara, who fusses with Zoe’s blanket in a wholly transparent way. “So”, Zoe says, eyebrows raised. The baby gurgles.

“So”, Inara echoes. She clasps her bag with both hands, trying for a smile. It looks strained. Her hair is a mess, and she has no makeup on. “Sorry, I was just… I just wanted…” She glances at the floor, taking a deep breath. Zoe’s eyebrows climbs higher on her forehead.

“I wanted to congratulate you, Zoe. She’s beautiful”, Inara says with a wistful look at the baby.    

Zoe is unimpressed. “You’re leaving”, she guesses, eyeing Inara’s overstuffed duffle bag.

“I- yes”.

“You haven’t told Mal yet”.

“You’re the only one who knows”, Inara admits quietly, her lovely brown eyes downcast. She bites her lip.

Zoe blinks. “I’m… touched”. She tilts her head, watching Inara in a new light. “I respect you”, she finally says. “I respect your wishes. The others will too”.

“Oh! You think I’m practicing my farewells on you!” Inara laughs, waving the thought away. “No, I’m sure they’ll handle it admirably. But Zoe, I wanted to- if you’ll let me-” she hesitates, before pulling a sheer blanket out of her bag. “I got this at a market on Corscuant”, she says quietly, handing the blanket over. It’s made of pale yellow silk with a handstitched pattern of black leaves around the edge. “It made me think of you, and your baby.”

Zoe swallows hard, watching the baby put a corner of the yellow fabric in her mouth. “Thank you, Inara. Yellow is… a good colour”.

Inara smiles. “I hoped you would say that. Goodbye now”, she adds, leaning forward to place a farewell kiss on Zoe’s forehead. “Star safe”.                

Zoe picks at the yellow blanket, spreading it over her gurgling daughter. It’s the exact same shade of blonde as Wash’s hair. A good colour, indeed.

 “Inara?” she calls out suddenly.

“Yes?” Inara stops, her hand resting on the doorframe.

“Where is K2SO?”

Inara’s mouth gives a little quirk. “On the bridge, of course”. She smiles, her eyes looking lighter already. “Goodbye, Zoe. You know how to find me if you ever need me”. Then she’s gone with a rustle of shimmering skirts.

Zoe turns to look at the baby resting on her chest, whose wide, dark eyes are watching her intently. Her baby. Wash’s baby. “What do you say, little one?” Zoe murmurs into the wispy curls adorning the frail skull. “Should we go visit your father?” 

K2SO is sitting in his usual place, staring out the windshield and counting the stars now that they’re simply drifting through space: his skills for the moment unneeded. He’s just preparing to enter hibernation for a few moments, when his audio sensors pick up the soft shuffling of footsteps just outside the bridge.     

Zoe is pulling herself up the metal ladder, carrying a squirming bundle in her arms. Her hair is plastered to her forehead, her cheeks flushing furiously.

“You should be resting”, K2SO observes. Zoe gives him a look.

“I will. Here”, she pushes the bundle into his hands and collapses into K2SO’s empty seat. K2SO blinks down at the bundle – the baby. It’s small enough to fit in one hand. It stares back at him with large dark eyes. The sight provokes a curious tingling sensation in his circuits.

“It’s very light”, he says after a moment, weighing the baby in his hand.

“Be careful!” Zoe snaps, halfway out of the pilot seat. K2SO gives her a long look.

“I have handled bombs heavier than this child”, he informs her. “And my gyroscopic sensors are in excellent condition”.

To his surprise, she gives a barking laugh at that, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shake with mirth. “Your sense of humour has not improved after death, you know”.

“I suppose that’s the programming’s fault”, he all but sniffs. The baby’s hands open and clench; he hesitates a moment, then reaches out to let her latch onto his cold finger. They both watch the baby grab on tightly before closing her eyes and going out like a light. Soft snores that are barely audible above the ships humming fill the room.

“Do you like her”, Zoe whispers after several long moments.  

“Yes”, K2SO says absently, his eyes focusing and refocusing on the child in his arms. “She’s got your nose, you know”.

 

\---

 

The ship enters the night cycle slowly. The lights dim, Kaylee sneaks her last snack of the evening before slipping under the blankets with Simon, Mal heads to his own quarters for an hour or two of restless pacing before bed. River sneaks into the vents, quiet like a mouse.

K2SO wakes from his dreamless slumber with a whir, trudges slowly from his charging port in the engine room towards the bridge. Always on night duty. Droids don’t need sleep, after all. They don’t need company either.

The sight that greets him when he enters the bridge gives him pause. Zoe’s there, fallen asleep face first over the dashboard. Her long black hair shifts with every breath. In the corner, the baby is strapped down in a small egg-like chair built especially for her by Kaylee; awake and watching him with her tiny thumb securely in her mouth. When she spots him, her face breaks into a toothless smile.

He picks her up, firing up his fans to full. She likes the noise, resting her plump cheek against his chest plate, eyelids drooping more and more with every breath.   

K2SO slowly digs out an old shirt from underneath the console: pale blue with large red flowers and jagged leaves. Carefully, with one arm around the sleeping baby, he places the shirt across Zoe’s shoulders. He regards his work for a moment, listens to hear breathing over the low humming of the ship. He nods, satisfied.

The baby snuffles against his side as he settles in for a long night of piloting them safely among the stars.

A Firefly flies forever.


End file.
